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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24866023">tell me, that you'll kiss me</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/javajoy/pseuds/opheliavevo'>opheliavevo (javajoy)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>her perfume stains your hands [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Killing Eve (TV 2018)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 09:08:03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,522</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24866023</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/javajoy/pseuds/opheliavevo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The cold Londen night freezes her tear to her cheek. Villanelle says, "Now we walk." The moment between them was soft and <em>warm</em>, for the first time there was more love between them than lust. Now sorrow and heartbreak enter the scene. "And don't look back."</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>her perfume stains your hands [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1772851</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>38</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>tell me, that you'll kiss me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>An English night sky clouded with pollution hides every star from her under a thick black coat. The pale moon high above the ground, still rising towards its peak, mocks her with all knowing ignorance.  </p><p>Couples and scattered lonesome individuals walk indifferently down London streets, passing ancient lamposts that have attributed more to history that many of those around it have. Soft light hovering over them all, reflecting undeserved halo's in their hair.</p><p>The air was cold, and though the street vendors had long since dimmed their lights and traveled home; the air still tastes of baked bread and chocolate. Autumn leaves crunch under her feet as the pavement leads Eve onto the bridge, overlooking the river.</p><p>Lights reflect in the water in ripples, an alternate reality lost in dark water. Cold, yet inviting. In the distance, just as her hand makes contact with chilled steel railing, she hears Villianelle call "Eve!"</p><p>She sounds like home, another warm soft image in this living memory. Eve leans her body against the rails before turning to look back for her. The wind carries her curly black hair with it, flowing in her vision as Villanelle races towards her in that soft yellow overcoat.</p><p>Following Villanelle is the strong scent of her perfume. Hearty and heavily applied, a smell like a Roman Centeriallan. It was iconic, and perfect, and <em>hers</em>.</p><p>With a few long strides, her assassin is by her side once again.</p><p>"Hey," The Russian accent sends shivers down her spine, oh the effect her voice had on Eve. "You can be pretty athletic when you choose." Her attempt at humor was warm yet it doesn't reach Eve, </p><p>Villanelle is the only one in her heart that Eve can trust, that's why when her lips part, the words which leave them are, "I killed Dasha."</p><p>Her first kill had left her broken and horrified. There were so many days when she was still bound to a hospital bed where Eve would rake her nails up and down the flesh of her hands. Always hallucinating blood on them no matter how many nurses assured her otherwise.</p><p>Then there was the period of indifference, when she would remember how it felt and not even nausea would find her; and though she had hated and been ashamed of herself with Dasha -</p><p>It was still indifference. Shocking yet calming.</p><p>Villanelle is still so sure of her body count, "No, I killed Dasha. I beat in her skull with a golf club." The other woman was watching her face and Eve wishes she would <em>reach out</em> and -</p><p>Her mouth isn't even dry as she clarifies "I pressed down on her chest with my foot, until -" Eve stops her own words as she again confronts the fact that there is neither regret nor remorse in her for her deeds.</p><p>The winds pick up again, the air smelling of baked bread and Villianelles perfume. Streetlamps ripple on the water.</p><p>This moment is so warm despite the chill, so soft despite the horror.</p><p>Eve can hear the smile in Villianelles' voice as she responds, "We both did then!" Pausing before she adds "That's so romantic, isn't it?"</p><p>Now a snort leaves Eve, hard and unattractive, yet Villianelle continues smiling up at her. Leaning against the steel railing without a care in the world. Her blonde hair and yellow overcoat flowing in the gentle winds.</p><p>"Only we would think that," Eve tells her, it is romantic. A poem that could be found in dark academia by mad scholars. Eve was never talented at her English and literature subjects. Always too caught up in true crime cases and stories about why women kill. Oh, the things she could tell her younger self.</p><p>"I don't want to do it anymore." The streetlamps reflect the bridge of Villianelles' nose, her cheekbone. The lights are too soft for Eve to truly witness her hazel eyes but she knows they're there. Regarding her with fondness as the echoes of words that were once a farse now hold truth. </p><p>Villanelle had wanted to run away to Alaska once. Is that where she'll go if she's truly strong enough to make a change? Was this moment an invitation? A second chance at her heart?</p><p>No. She'll always have a piece of her heart, just as she will always have a piece of hers.</p><p>Eve can almost picture that future. A rustic cottage deep within an Alaskan forest, no less than twenty miles away from the nearest town and eighty miles away from a town that would be large enough to house retail stores and markets that would fit Villianelles tastes.</p><p>Their cottage would be yellow, the same shade of Villianelles coat now, small flowers covered in frostbite would sit under every window. The furniture would all be mismatched and have Villianelle frowning.</p><p>They'd have a cat, and a greenhouse where they'd compete to see which one of them could grow the best strawberries. Drinking watered down tea they bought expired, baking banana bread while they both joked about who in town they'd like to murder.</p><p>There would be incidents like that. Eve would be a fool to think there wouldn't.</p><p>She turns away from the black water, resting her back against the railing. Watching the people pass, starring at their phones, or listening mindlessly to music. Focused on what comes next instead of the moment they were in.</p><p>Eve says, "I used to be like them." What had changed her? Bills death? or had she always been this way?</p><p>Villanelle knows her so well, "You were never like them."</p><p>She had always been pretending then. Looking delusion in the mirror every morning when she brushed her teeth. Denying herself the truth of what she wanted, what did she want now? </p><p>Eve should stop pretending she doesn't know, "When I think of my future now, all I see is your face, over and over again." Her lips still tingle with the memory of Villanelles, the only thing she could think about after they had kissed was that she wanted to kiss her again.</p><p>Villanelle surprises her with a question, "Do you think I am a monster?"</p><p>Eve thinks about the poetic quotes she would see being shared on social media by old coworkers attributing the words to fictional creations, <em>When is a monster no longer a monster? Oh, when you love it. </em></p><p>Villanelle <em>was</em> a monster, but it was far more complicated than that. Eve was every bit as monstrous as the other woman.</p><p>"I think we <em>all</em> have monsters inside of us, some are just better at hiding it than others." After all, how long had Eve hidden hers? When had she embraced it?</p><p>"I think my monster encourages your monster." Villanelles' voice is so soft, and kind. Her earrings reflect the surrounding light, shining brighter than any of the nonexistent stars above them.</p><p>But was their situation as simple as that? Was Villianelle the personification of her sins? Did Eve want to be free of it?</p><p>She voices a request for freedom. The words slipping past her lips before she was able to think better of them.</p><p>Villanelle accepts her plea without reservation or hesitation. The living memory turning to white static as her body moves through the motions. She was losing herself again. Becoming a shell who only reacts and never <em>acts</em>.</p><p>She looks up at Villanelle, just taller than her. Eve watches the curve of her lips, the freckles lining her cheeks. As Villanelle turns around, a tear slips past her cheek as Eve realizes she forgot to memorize her eyes.</p><p>Eve turns around as well, the winds once again pick up as their hair tangles together. Villanelle leans back, pressing the back of her skull into Eves. Her perfume is drowning them both, marking them as a matching set.</p><p>The cold Londen night freezes her tear to her cheek. Villanelle says, "Now we walk." The moment between them was soft and <em>warm</em>, for the first time there was more love between them than lust. Now sorrow and heartbreak enter the scene. "And don't look back."</p><p>Villanelle takes the first step away. Even though the sounds of streetcars and that incoherent chatters of life surround them, the only thing Eve can hear is her footsteps. Growing softer the farther away she went.</p><p>Her perfume lingers.</p><p>Everything about her lingers.</p><p>As Eve takes her own step forward she thinks about the first moment she had seen Villanelle, with her second step Eve recalls their second meeting, and on her third step, she remembers their third interaction.</p><p>Each step Eve takes forward only cements what she already knew. Each step brings Eve back into her own body until finally, her footsteps halt.</p><p>There is a woman on the other side of the road, singing a soft melody to a disinterested audience. As her voice drifts towards them, Eve turns around to see that Villanelle was turning to gaze upon her as well.</p><p>They had broken a vow as old as Greek Mythology, yet neither of them is dragged away.</p><p>So Eve takes a step forward, towards what she wants.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>stay safe out there &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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